There has been much excited gushing in the blogs recently about NanoWriMo. I did not realize until recently the extent to which NaNo has become a kind of international writers’ holiday. And its timing is very clever in that respect, I now see. Nor did I realize that there is a small but vociferous backlash underway. Literary scrooges, I suppose. Though I believe that some critics make serious and useful points.
One problem, it seems, is the name itself. Not the cute elision, which is fun to say and write and to look at too, and has that lovely sing song quality. Not to mention the internal rhyme. No, the critics argue that the name is misleading. The issue is with the word ‘novel’, or No, as the kids almost certainly don’t say.
Of course, argue the critics, no-one but a genius can create a novel in a month. Everyone but that genius will produce a first draft at best. More likely a zeroth draft. Last year I made first pass through my current project. I’m not even referring to it on my current rewrite, though I’m sure I will mine it in future revisions.
NaNo sceptic Larry Brooks makes this point powerfully in a post at StoryFix.com.
Cynics might respond by saying that any draft will require a rewrite. And they’re correct, which is why the whole NaNoWriMo proposition makes me queasy. If they called it National First Draft Writing Month it would go down better.
Larry inevitably also works things round to the outline and structure debate real fast, but that’s an argument for another day. Let’s focus on the significance of the word ‘Novel’.
Leaving aside the fact that the alternative name loses something in the translation (NaFirDraWriMo?), and the fact that Larry himself might better wear the cynic hat in this discussion than the NaNoPhytes he conjures, there is a good argument here.
It is this: NaNoWriMo sets new writers up to fail. Because, by the standards of a published novel, the product of the month will be a failure. And as Ira Glass pointed out recently, one reason that people give up on a project is the manifest gap between their good taste and their ability to match their own standards. It requires effort to narrow that divide and many just give up.
The Office of Letters and Light (AKA the NaNoWriMo crew) in all their fabulousness (and that’s irony-free – I love NaNoWriMo) don’t do much to counter this criticism. Why should they? They’re not entering into a debate. Still, it would be nice to see some focus on the next stage of the process—which is, after all, where the real work begins. In fact, one of the first emails they sent out to prospective participants this year was an offer of a printed proof copy of their finished ‘novel’ come December. This can only encourage the notion that the work of NaNoWriMo somehow ends with the month, that the result is ready for shelving.
Elsewhere, to be fair, they make it very clear that after NaNoWriMo comes the rewrite. And they will put up a “I Wrote A Novel, Now What?” page towards the end of the month with advice and offers on their site.
I would love them to take this further, though. I worry that many of the amazing projects that are begun in November, the worlds that are built, the characters that breath their first (and last) breaths, will be lost in December and all but forgotten by January. This is a shame! It’s a calamity!
Chris Baty and team have done us a great service by encouraging us to abandon our Inner Editors and let our creativity flow. But wouldn’t it be great if they could double up on this by helping us to rehabilitate our Inner Editors later? If they could help us train the Editors to review, refine, and inevitably rewrite our raw material.
How about a NaNoReMo? A revision month. Maybe in February? With workshops, advice, and pep talks. Colleges and teachers could get involved. A website could be created that would become a valuable resource for writers over the years. With case studies and masterclasses.
Whew. Well OK, back in the real world I’m having to invent my own NoReMo. I’m going to write 50,000 words this year. I’ll log my wordcount, and enjoy the pep talks. I’ll swap war stories in the forums. But because of the NaNoWriMo honor system, which is sacred, I won’t be able to claim my winning certificate. Why not? Because I intend to continue an existing project. Last year’s NaNoWriMo project, in fact. And that disqualifies me under the rules. I’m not complaining. If I make the wordcount, my current draft will leap forward, and that’s a win in itself.
NaNoWriMo gets people writing, thinking, and creating. It’s entirely a force for good. The Office of Letters and Light don’t have to do a single further thing to deserve their project’s growing status as an effort-filled, brain-torturing, sleep-depriving holiday sat awkwardly between Halloween and Thanksgiving. Still, with all that momentum and all those worlds at stake, maybe they could invest in the next stage, or partner up to do it. Long live NaNoWriMo. But bring on NaNoReMo.
